


Not Your Ordinary Damsel

by sara47q



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Going On Facebook: A Darcy Lewis Fic Exchange, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Minor Violence, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-14
Updated: 2012-10-14
Packaged: 2017-11-16 07:20:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/536925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sara47q/pseuds/sara47q
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darcy does not recommend getting kidnapped, even by morons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Your Ordinary Damsel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Talulabelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talulabelle/gifts).



As Darcy woke up, she became aware that something was NOT RIGHT. She wasn’t snuggled up in her uber-comfy bed with her warm lovers. Instead she was cold and lying alone on a bare cot in a really boring white room. She went to adjust her glasses and discovered that her hands were secured behind her back, not with handcuffs but with something else that bit painfully into her wrists as she struggled.

She tried to remember how she’d ended up here. On her way to work, she’d splurged on a ridiculous sugary coffee and had gotten Bruce one of those exotic teas he loved but Tony refused to stock because they offended his delicate coffee-addicted sensibilities. Keeping Bruce happy wasn’t technically in her job description, but since he shared lab space with Tony she thought it only polite that she keep her boss from getting smashed by his tea deprived science buddy.

A pretentious looking guy in a suit had been in line ahead of her. She took him up on his offer to hold her drinks and he seemed to think he could take payment in unlimited staring at her boobs while she shuffled her bag and phone around to have her hands free for her and Bruce’s drinks. The last thing she remembered was gulping some coffee down on her way to the tower. She’d only taken her eyes off of the jerk for a second, but  based on the fuzziness of memories after that and the fact that she didn’t seem to have a head wound, she was guessing that the douchey guy had slipped something into her coffee. Five years of not getting drugged at college parties and some moron gets her at the coffee shop across the street from Stark Tower. Fuck.

The door opened suddenly and she jerked upright, wincing at the pain in her wrists as she rubbed them wrong on the ropes binding her. She was right, it WAS the loser whose eyes had been glued to her boobs at the coffee shop. What the hell could this be about? She narrowed her eyes at him as he sauntered in the room.

“Ah, Miss Lewis! Glad to see you’re awake!” he exclaimed, as two beefy guys came in carrying a small table and two chairs.

“I’m glad someone’s glad,” she turned slightly and wiggled her fingers at him. “Care to explain what the hell, dude?”

“Where are my manners?” He motioned to one of the goons who grabbed her roughly by one arm and hauled her to her feet, dragging her to one of the chairs.

“Whoa, dude, watch the hands!” she yelled as she felt a meaty hand brush against her side boob.

She sat up as straight as possible and stared at the moron flanked by the muscle.

She lived with Agent Phil Coulson. She could play this game all day.

Moron broke first. “Miss Lewis, I’ll bet you’re wondering why I’ve invited you here.”

“I have a couple of ideas. But judging by the lack of cake, I’m guessing it’s not a surprise party.”

He laughed. “Yes, Miss Lewis, it’s not.”

“So you know who I am, what can I call you? I’m thinking Bob. You look like a Bob.”

He looked genuinely surprised. “You don’t know who I am? You work for Anthony and you don’t know who I am?”

So this had something to do with working for Tony, not with dating badass secret agents. Okay. “Well, Bob, Tony doesn’t generally like to talk about guys that aren’t himself. And he’s way prettier than you, Bob, so your name hasn’t come up.”

He slapped his hand on the table and only supreme force of will kept her from jumping a little. “My name isn’t Bob! I’m Justin Hammer!”

She raised an eyebrow. “Justin Hammer? The dude who blew up the Stark Expo a couple of years ago? Aren’t you supposed to be in prison?”

He smiled, and it was not pretty. “Rumors of my incarceration have been greatly exaggerated. Now that the introductions are over, shall we get down to business?”

She shrugged. “I don’t have anywhere else to be right now.”

“Why would you even want to work for Anthony? Hammer Industries is clearly superior.”

“So this is a job offer? I’ve never had to be tied up for one before.”

He sat in the chair opposite her and crossed his legs. “After you tell me what I want to know, I’ll be happy to put you on the payroll.”  
She rolled her eyes. “Does that ever actually work?”

He laughed again. It was starting to sound more and more maniacal. She wondered if he’d been practicing in prison. “I want you to build one of Anthony’s arc reactors for me.”

She blinked at him. “Seriously?”

“Yes, Ms. Lewis, seriously.”

“Didn’t you have a super-villian of your very own build you some before you went to prison?”

He sighed. “They were destroyed. And he didn’t leave any blueprints behind.”

“Sucks to be you. So terrible that you have to work so hard to steal someone else’s work right now.”

He stood up quickly and backhanded her. Her head snapped back and all she could think was “fuck, that really hurts!” She turned back to face him and licked at her upper lip, tasting blood. She’d sparred with Natasha, Clint, and Phil at various points. None of them had ever hit her in the face. She thought fast and decided to act like he expected, hysterical.

“Ok! Just don’t hit me again!”

He bent down, his hands on the back of his chair. “Just give me what I want, Miss Lewis. It’s very simple.”  
“Well, I’ll need my hands untied. A notebook and something to write with. And your goons took me before I could eat breakfast, so some pop tarts would be nice.”  
He looked down at her in disbelief. “I think we can do better than pop tarts, is that what Anthony feeds you?” He took his phone out of his pocket and called someone, telling them what to bring.

One of the goons cut the rope tying her hands behind her back but used handcuffs to anchor her left wrist to the chair arm. She looked at how raw they were. No wonder they hurt when she moved them. It wasn’t long before someone brought in a notebook, pen, and a large, gooey danish. It looked good, but there was no way she could eat it and write one handed, even if she was dumb enough to eat anything Hammer gave her after he drugged her coffee.

He moved to leave. “I’ll be back in a few hours, and I’ll expect some results.”

She rolled her eyes at him and waited until he’d left. She hadn’t written on actual paper for awhile, everything was electronic in Stark Tower.  Her stomach growled. She had no idea how long it had been since she’d been taken and she was hungry. She pushed the danish as far away from her as possible and started writing.

True to his word, Hammer came back a few hours later. Darcy had pushed everything to the other end of the table and had laid the uninjured side of her face down on her arm and tried to sleep. She wasn’t successful, it was an extremely uncomfortable position and her wrist was really sore and bleeding a little from trying to wiggle it out of the handcuff.

“I’m glad you finally saw reason, Ms. Lewis. Let’s see what you came up with!” He opened her notebook and started reading. It was almost comical, watching as his eyes scanned the pages and his face went from gleeful to confused, reading a line aloud: “Rarity stepped back and looked at the dress she’d just finished. It was her most beautiful dress yet and she would look amazing in it on the most important day of her life – her wedding day.” He looked at her. “What the hell is this?”

She shrugged. “Sorry.  It’s a little rough, usually my boyfriend helps me with it.”

“I can’t imagine Anthony writing this sort of drivel.”  
Her eyes widened. “Do you think I’m dating Tony? Seriously?”

He smacked the notebook hard across her face, in the same spot he’d hit her before, making her cry out in shock and pain. Asshole. “I want the plans for the arc reactor!” he screamed.

She yelled back, “I don’t know how to make it!  As far as I’m concerned, it’s a magic blue light!”

He swept his arm over the table, her plate slamming against the wall and breaking in to pieces. “Jesus Christ.”  
“You know I’m just his PA, right? I make sure he has solid food for lunch and that he gets to the meetings Pepper highlights as important. I’m not in on the science.”

He raked his fingers through his hair. “I did my research! You did an internship with Dr. Jane Foster. My sources say she is developing an inter-dimensional bridge.”  
Darcy tried not to look shocked. For a man who was supposed to still be in prison, he was surprisingly well informed. The Rainbow Bridge project was supposed to be top secret-hush hush. She barely had clearance to know about it and she’d been there when Thor dropped out of the sky. Darcy decided to keep trying to play it cool and said, “Dude, I organized data, brought pop tarts, made coffee. I did not help with the science. For fuck’s sake, I majored in political science with a minor in tazing Gods and general bad-assery.”

He continued to rake his fingers through his hair. “I hope, for your sake, that you’re lying.”

He left the room, slamming the door. She knew that she was screwed, and started looking around for something, anything to pick the lock on her handcuffs with. She was starting to wonder how dumb it would be to try using a sliver of broken plate when she saw a bit of familiar black fabric sticking out from under her cot. Seriously? Her purse? This cemented him in her in her mind as the most stupid supervillain ever.

Darcy moved her chair over as quietly as possible, since she couldn’t be completely sure if there were goons stationed outside her door. She grabbed her bag, silently telling Clint to suck it, after all the times he’d complained about her purse being full of crap. As she rooted around for a bobby pin that she knew was in there somewhere, Darcy vowed to tell him I told you so the next time he mentioned her bottomless bag of junk. Her cell phone was missing, guess Hammer wasn’t completely as dumb as a box of rocks.

She grinned with success, holding her pin up in triumph like it was an Olympic gold medal. Darcy went to work on her handcuff, thinking that it was much easier getting out of them when you weren’t being deliberately distracted, even if you were afraid and in pain. Clint had taught her how to unlock them with hair pins by handcuffing her naked to the bed and having Phil try to distract her with his hands and mouth while Clint had given her directions on how to escape. He’d made her do it three times before he’d let her come. As she felt the cuff release, she mentally thanked that sadistic bastard for his unorthodox methods.

She’d noticed the large vent hours ago, trying to figure out how to get to it. She was living with Hawkeye after all. She’d mastered Climbing Through Vents 101 ages ago.

Darcy ripped the sleeves off of her shirt with regret (it’s not easy to find shirts that are cute, comfortable, and don’t make her feel like a hooker) and wrapped them around her wrists to try to keep dirt and dust from getting into her wounds as she crawled through the ducts. She wasn’t really sure where the hell she was or how many other people might be in the building, or even what time of day it was. She was as quiet as she could possibly manage, the months of trying to out-stealthy her guys so she could sneak up on them had so far been unsuccessful, but was finally coming in handy.

She picked her chair up and set it under the vent, using a small screwdriver from her purse to loosen the screws (again, suck it, Clint!) and set them with the vent cover on the bed. Tightening her purse straps so it wouldn’t jostle around too much, Darcy hauled herself into the vent and started to crawl.

After what felt like forever, freezing whenever she heard voices and passing by three empty offices before she picked one that she hoped was far enough away from anyone and happy that she managed to land quietly on a couch without breaking herself. She stood still for what felt like forever, and when she didn’t hear anything, quietly walked over to the door and locked it before going to the desk. She noticed it was night time and wondered just how long she’d been locked up here.

She picked up the phone and was so happy to hear a dial tone she almost cried. Pulling the phone off of the desk, she crawled under it and dialed the Tower.

JARVIS answered and after she told him she needed to talk to any of the Avengers, Tony was quickly on the line. “You’re late for work. Planning on coming in, Darce?”  
She sighed. “I was kind of hoping you could send a ride, boss.”

Darcy heard some kind of commotion going on in the background and then Clint was on the line. “Darcy?”

Her thought process at this point mainly consisted of “don’t cry you stupid bitch, would the Black Widow cry right now?” but she knew her voice was shaky when she said, “Yeah?”

He said, “We’re coming to get you, baby,” and then Phil was on the line. “Darcy, JARVIS has your location and the team is on its way. What can we expect?”

His no-nonsense tone helped calm her down and she told him she wasn’t sure but it was Justin Hammer who’d taken her and she seemed to be in some sort of office building.

She could hear him relaying that information over his comm. And he told her to stay where she was and they would be there very quickly.

“Are you ok?” he asked gently. “Do we need a medical team standing by?”

“It’s nothing that a hot shower and a first aid kit won’t cure.” Despite telling herself repeatedly not to cry, she knew her voice broke a little as she said, “I want to go home.”

“I know, sweetheart. It won’t be long now.”

Phil’s voice was strong and steady in her ear, asking her questions and helping keep her calm while she waited. It seemed somehow both an eternity and no time at all before she heard someone try the handle on the door to the office she was hiding in.

“Darcy!” she heard Clint bellow.

“Clint’s here,” she told Phil. She heard him tell Clint he was at the right room as she scrambled out from under the desk.   
“Ok, Darcy, hang up and I’ll see you soon.”

She dropped the phone and opened the door, wasting no time jumping into Clint’s arms. He tilted his head and kissed her, only breaking away when Natasha came around the corner and told them the building was secure. “Hammer hasn’t upgraded his security since the last time I dealt with him, but he does not seem to be in the building,” she informed them.

“Let’s get you out of here,” Clint said, setting her down and slinging an arm comfortably around her and leading her down the hall.

They got into one of the SHIELD vehicles waiting out front and on the drive back, she told them everything she’d heard, Coulson’s voice in her ear via a comm she’d taken from a flunky.

Suddenly she remembered, “We have to make sure Jane’s ok! He mentioned her and the Rainbow Bridge by name!”

“On it,” Phil said, and she could hear him talking to someone else in the background.

Clint swore as he unwrapped the sleeve from her left wrist.

“I didn’t want them to get dirt in them when I was in the airducts,” she explained, wincing as the material pulled where it had stuck to her skin.

“That was good thinking,” Natasha told her.

“Are they both this bad?” Clint asked.

“That one is the worst. After they untied me, he handcuffed me to the chair by the left wrist, so I could still write with the right. I couldn’t get it off without rubbing the wound harder.”

His lips thinned and she heard Phil asking how bad it was.

“Nothing some Neosporin and bandages won’t help,” Darcy responded before Clint could. “Do we still have the Scooby Doo bandaids?”

“I’ll see what I can find,” Phil promised.

“That means probably not,” she mock whispered to Natasha, who gave her a small smile. She must either be really funny right now, or look really pathetic. She was betting on looking pathetic.

“We’re here,” Natasha announced before Clint could unwrap her other wrist.

“Well, at least I can get a shower now.”

Natasha and Clint got out first and as soon as Darcy’s feet had hit the street, Clint had plucked her up bridal style and started to carry her into the Tower. She wiggled and slapped at his arm. “I can walk, you know!”

He sighed and tightened his arms around her. “I know, but let me do this. Please?”

It was the please that did her in, so she quit struggling and decided to snuggle in instead and enjoy it. “Ok, but next time you get to play the damsel in distress.”

He kissed the top of her head. “That seems fair, Princess.”

He did put her down when they got to the penthouse and she ran into Phil’s arms. She kissed him, savoring his taste and the feeling of safety and home as Clint came up behind her and put his hands on her hips and his head on her shoulder. When she broke away, she looked down. “I’m getting your suit filthy.”

He brushed her nose with his thumb and it came away with a layer of dirt. “What is all this?”

“Hammer’s air vents aren’t as clean as Tony’s. I’m filing a formal complaint in the morning.”

He lifted up her unbandaged wrist and man, did it look terrible in better lighting. Phil laid a gentle kiss on the torn flesh and said, “All right, let’s go get you cleaned up. Stark is still trying to locate Hammer and anything else can wait until morning.”

“I must look really terrible if you’re putting off an official debrief, Agent.”

It wasn’t long before the three of them were in the suite Stark had reserved for Clint. They didn’t stay there very often, but he kept it fully stocked. She wasted no time stripping out of her dirty clothes and stepping into the shower JARVIS had started for her. Darcy let out a little yelp when she reached up to start on her hair and the water hit her sore wrists. Phil stepped in front of her and grabbed the loofa, tossing the shampoo to Clint. She just closed her eyes and enjoyed the feeling of being taken care of. Clint’s fingers on her scalp and Phil gently washing her arms and face helped to rinse away the fear and pain she’d been feeling for what Phil had said was almost two days.

Darcy stuck her head under the water to finish rinsing her hair and face off and her eyes snapped open as she felt a bottle hit the floor near her foot. Phil and Clint were both staring at her with angry looks on their faces. She stepped back a little. “What did I do?”

“Your face,” Clint said, reaching up to lightly touch her cheek.

She flinched and said, “Oh, yeah. Hammer was pretty pissed when he found out that I’d been writing pony stories instead of do it yourself directions to building an arc reactor. Does it look bad?”

“You wrote more of _All the Queen’s Horses_ without me?” Clint asked.

“I put the notebook in my bag before I left. I had priorities.” He smiled at her as Phil just shook his head and pulled her out of the shower to start drying her off. “I thought it was just dirt,” he said. “You were covered in it.”

“Any more injuries?” Clint asked.

She tried for a flirtatious smile. “Why don’t you find out?”

The effect was ruined by a simultaneous yawn and stomach grumble.

“How about we get you fed and in bed, hot shot?” Clint asked, pulling her sleep shirt over her head before kneeling down to help her into her panties.

“I’m not made of glass, guys. I can dress myself.”

Phil laid his palm on her uninjured cheek. “Let us take care of you, just this once.”

She smiled and moved her head to kiss his palm. “All right, handsome.”

Clint picked her up and tucked her in the middle of the big bed and quickly bandaged her wrists before settling in behind her and starting the laborious job of combing her hair free of tangles. Phil returned minutes later with a tray laden with fruit, cheese, and bread.

She made grabby hands motions at the tray, making both men laugh. “This is amazing! I’ve always wanted to lie back while attractive men fed me grapes. I should get kidnapped more often.”

Clint obliged and popped a grape in her mouth as Phil settled on her other side.

“Please don’t. I’m too old for this kind of worry,” Phil told her, slathering a small piece of bread with some kind of soft cheese and holding it to her mouth. She nudged his leg with hers.

“You’re not that old,” she told him before taking a bite.

He sighed. “Ok. But in the future, please leave any kidnappings to Clint. I’m already used to his shenanigans.”  
She laughed. “You said shenanigans.”  
“Have you had any sleep these past two days?” Phil asked as he kept feeding her. She shook her head. “Not since I woke up from being drugged.”

Clint stopped combing. “Drugged?”  
“Didn’t I mention that? Hammer totally roofied me. Asshole.”

“Should we take her to Medical to run tests after all?” Clint asked as he ran the comb through her hair one more time and then braided it quickly. For a short haired man, he sure knew how to do a mean french braid.

Phil shook his head after he took her pulse and checked her pupils. Clint climbed down next to her, moved the mostly empty tray to the floor and laid his head on her stomach, his arm curling protectively around her. She started carding her fingers through his hair and suddenly it seemed like all of the adrenaline had finally left her body and her eyes weighed a million pounds. She struggled to hold them open and looked up at Phil.

“Will you guys still be here when I wake up?”

He kissed her gently and threaded his fingers through hers, rubbing his thumb in circles. “We wouldn’t be anywhere else.” She allowed herself to drift off, happy to quit worrying and knowing that they wouldn’t let anything else bad happen.


End file.
